Donald and Daisy
by WatchMeSoar
Summary: A bunch of one-shots based on prompts for an OTP challenge. All short, likely unrelated, hopefully cute. Chapter titles based on the prompt used. Enjoy!
1. Holding Hands

Daisy leaned against the reception counter, chin resting in one hand and eyes trained on her temperamental boyfriend. It was getting late, and the House of Mouse patrons were getting to the point of either leaving or going nuts. Mickey, well-meaning, did what he always did and decided to crack a few jokes to try to keep the remaining crowd appeased. And of course, that means that he cracked one or two about Donald. Who wasn't taking it well.

Donald was stalking around the entryway, talking at her more than to her. "Who does he think he is?! That palooka, I'll show him a thing or two!—"

He'd drawn a small crowd too, consisting of herself, Minnie, who had come a second too late for damage control; Max, who had heard the commotion from outside; and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, who were poking their heads out of their dressing room to witness the familiar sight.

Daisy sighed. It had been a rough week for all of them, and with Donald so tired and irritable already (…well, more than usual) this wasn't going to fix itself any time soon. That, and…well, she knew Mickey didn't mean any harm, but he could get a little short-sighted when it came to entertaining a crowd. As much as Donald would deny it, she knew he loved Mickey like a brother. This anger was more hurt than anything. All he needed was some quiet time to clear his head and some good reassurance, provided by her, of course.

This wasn't the place for that, though, not with their friends watching. Donald could hardly stand "sappy talks" even in private, though he appreciated them; he'd hardly consent to being calmed by one now. So, Plan B would have to do.

"—I do just as much work around here as he does! More! I don't deserve to be—" When Donald came near her counter once again, Daisy swiftly pulled him closer by the sleeve of his uniform (" _waaak!_ "), and them quickly grasped his hand when it came into reach. She stayed where she was, not relenting her grip, and eventually felt the tension start to drain out of him.

Their friends and family, seeing that that was that, quietly excused themselves, leaving the two birds alone. Donald sighed and leaned against the countertop opposite Daisy, eyes focused on some point beyond her and clutching her hand just as firmly. Daisy couldn't suppress a tiny smile, seeing that he'd accepted the small bit of comfort.

She was in love with Donald Duck, after all. This was what she was here for.


	2. Games

"Donald, what's this?"

"What's what, toots?"

"This, um… 'Badlands Unchained Apocalypse 2'."

"Oh. It's a video game. The boys asked for that for Christmas."

"Is this appropriate?"

"Daze, it's rated T, it's fine."

"You don't know that! Not just because of some dumb rating."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

"Why don't you play it?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Just play through a little of it. Just to see what it's like."

"You think a curse word or two or some moderate violence is gonna phase me? I won't know the difference."

"…Well, you aren't wrong. I'll play it with you."

"This is exasperating…"

III

"DIE ALIEN ZOMBIES!"

"Daisy, sweetheart, you're gonna break the coffee table."

"I'M DEAD DON. REVIVE ME NOW."

"Don't you think we've—"

"WE'RE IN THIS TO THE END!"

"…Onto level eight, then…"


	3. Date Night

Donald couldn't believe his luck. The night was beautiful, the boys were behaving themselves, he hadn't been fired by Uncle Scrooge in weeks. Not to mention he, Mickey and Goofy had just finished filming a rather successful TV special, and he had money to spare.

That's why he'd finally gotten himself together and asked Daisy out on a proper date. It really had been too long, he thought, since the two of them did something like this, and he knew Daisy was ecstatic. He couldn't suppress a tiny smirk as he straightened his tie and waistcoat, standing in front of the mirror. checking his watch, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed downstairs.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie were sprawled on the couch watching "Ninja Lumberjacks" part…eh, fifteen? Didn't matter. They were being quiet and not destroying anything. Which was _awesome_.

"Hiya, boys."

The triplets turned to their uncle, "Hey, Uncle D." Huey spoke. "Lookin' sharp."

"Didn't know you had a suit, Uncle D." Louie.

Donald gave a good-natured eye-roll, "I do my best to keep it far away from you three. Otherwise I _wouldn't_."

Dewey next; "Aw, c'mon Uncle D, we're angels."

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely." Donald buttoned his jacket and grabbed his wallet and keys, "I'll be back late. Don't stay up past midnight."

"We won't!"

"Have fun!"

"Will you bring me back some leftovers?"

Donald smiled, "Goodnight, boys," and shut the door.

III

"Oh, Donald! This is lovely," Daisy had been so enchanted from the second he'd picked her up, happy to finally get to do this sort of thing again. With work for both of them and taking care of the boys for…well, both of them, they didn't get a lot of time for themselves. She'd been grinning for what seemed like hours.

Donald was enchanted as well, proud of himself for making her so happy. Not to mention how absolutely stunning she looked, having worn a dark burgundy number that did her wonders, and having spent enough time on her hair and makeup that even Donald noticed the extra work. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

The waiter came to their table. "More wine, _monsieur?"_

"What do you think, Daze?"

"Goodness, I'd better not."

Donald turned back to the waiter, "Just the check, please."

When he left, Daisy sighed wistfully. "We really should do this more often."

Donald swallowed down the last of his merlot; "I agree. But if we kept doing this I'd have to sell my house."

Daisy giggled. "Don, it's not like we have to come here every time. I'd be alright with grilled cheese at your house, for goodness' sake."

"I have three gremlins running around my house."

"Adorable gremlins. But I suppose we could do my house."

The check arrived soon, and Don and Daisy exited the restaurant into the temperate summer's night. Donald's car was parked only about a block away; neither of them felt it was necessary to have the valet park for them. But perhaps that would've been better.

As the couple passed an alleyway, they heard a rough, slurred voice from behind them. "Hey, baby," Don and Daisy turned quickly to the source, "How'd you like to hang with a fun guy like me, huh?"

The man wasn't alone; he had two cronies shadowing him. None of them looked very intimidating to be honest, and if Donald were alone he might've stuck around for a fight just for the heck of it—it had been a while, after all. But with Daisy there, he knew they'd be better off just leaving. "Look pal, we don't want any trouble—"

"I ain't talkin' to you, tiny. I'm takin' to the girl. What do you say, lady?"

Donald kept himself firmly between the three and Daisy, gearing up for a short scuffle, and backing away little by little. "Look mac, she's not interested. Go find someone else."

The man glared at Donald. "I said, I was talkin' to the lady, duck."

Very quickly, one of the goons rushed in from the side and grabbed Daisy's arm.

Don immediately jerked to action, " _Hey, you sonova—"_

But he was too late. That is, too late to stop the carnage unleashed by his girlfriend.

 _"Don't you DARE touch me you low-life, slimy—"_

Donald could only stand back and watch, still surprised by Daisy's vocabulary after all these years (and he was a _sailor_ , for gosh sakes…). The three unfortunate scamps were treated to a verbal thrashing punctuated by strikes from her purse. It was glorious.

When the men finally managed to escape and make a run for it, Daisy took a breath and straightened her hair before walking back to Donald. He was standing, watching her with a funny little half-smile. She caught his eye, and returned his grin for a reason she couldn't explain.

"What? What's that look for?"

"…It's like falling for you all over again."

Daisy's cheeks went deep red. Don rarely said anything so outright, but aimed well when he did. She looked down to the ground, beaming.

Donald put a finger under her chin and made her look up, giving her a peck. "Let's go home, toots."

She locked her arm around his. "Lead the way, darling."


	4. A Kiss

Donald Duck was pissed. Beyond pissed. He pulled up into his driveway at a little after seven in the evening, having been at work for his dear Uncle since five in the freaking morning! His back hurt, his eyes hurt, his feet hurt, and his pride hurt (running into Gladstone on his way our of the building had been the icing on the cake).

As he stormed his way up the walk, Donald suddenly remembered that Daisy was here; he'd called her a few hours earlier to see if she'd make the boys dinner, when he realized he'd be at work later than he'd planned. She couldn't see him like this, not when his hands were still shaking with fury and his teeth clenched savagely. He knew that Daisy didn't much like it when he was angry in the first place (it was a miracle she loved him in the first place, he always thought). Resuming his walk to the front door at a much slower pace, he did all he could to school himself to look more calm than he felt. He'd take out his frustration on some unfortunate household object later.

Opening the door, Donald heard the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Even as tense as he was, he had to smile just a bit. The boys loved Daisy, that was for sure.

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen a chorus of identical "Unca Donald!"'s rang out and he was pulled to the table by little hands to join in the end of the meal.

When they were all finished the triplets left to watch their favorite show in the next room. Donald made for the doorway himself, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He inwardly sighed, knowing that he never really had a chance of hiding anything from Daisy. He turned to tell her what had been going on, that he just needed some time and he absolutely hadn't broken anything in a fit of anger (yet), but before he could get a word out she'd met his beak with hers.

There were few things in the world that could calm the temperamental duck down, and a kiss from Daisy Duck was by far the most effective. Within seconds Donald felt the tension drain from his shoulders and his brow unfurl. After a few seconds he managed to return the kiss, enfolding her delicately in his arms.

Pulling back, Daisy caught his gaze and giggled, seeing as he was still practically a melted heap. Donald returned a smile, a genuine one. Work was hard, and leisure time was short, but Donald took each and every one of Daisy's kisses as a reminder that he had something worth working for.


	5. Borrowing Clothes

The Lost Boys were a joy to have at the House of Mouse, everyone could agree. A youthful, jovial bunch who always wore smiles and were sweethearts in their own rambunctious way. Daisy always made sure to have a table large enough for all of them ready. They were a delight. Mostly.

One day, the table was right near the center of the establishment, and perfectly situated to view the back of the Pirate table about a dozen yards meters away.

Who threw their food first was undeterminable, although fingers would later point to Nibs; soon enough there was an all-out food fight— _war_ , more like—between the Lost Boys, headed by Peter Pan; the Pirates, headed of course by Hook; and anyone present who had decided to take a side. Other patrons were taking cover under tables and behind booths, too startled to do anything else and too fascinated to turn away.

Mickey and the other staff were obligated to put a stop to it of course. He and Minnie and Donald headed off the Pirates while Daisy, Goofy, and Max tried to calm down the Boys. It took a good while (neither party was much inclined to listen to authority) but eventually things calmed down and Mickey got up on stage to try to salvage the night. The others got to cleaning up, calling out the brooms and making a quick job of it. The show must go on, after all.

The Pirates got a heavy warning, reminding them of the agreement they signed to be allowed into the club on the first place, while the Lost Boys were taken aside by Minnie and given a talking to. Max returned outside and Goofy went to the kitchen to help get ready the complimentary drinks they'd hand out to the guests. Donald went to retake his post, but when he turned he caught sight of Daisy picking herself up off of the ground, covered in one sort of mousse-like pink and yellow stuff that the Boys liked. Seemed like she'd gotten herself caught in the crossfire.

Don rushed over to help her back to her feet. "Hey, you alright toots?"

"Um…yeah, I'm okay. I feel a little funky."

Donald lead them back to his dressing room. "I can imagine. Didn't quite manage to dodge the bullets, eh?" He closed the door behind them.

Daisy sighed, wiping at her face, grimacing at the goo that came off on her hand. "I have hours of work left, Don. What am I gonna do? I can't go back out there like this."

Donald took a handful of tissue and helped her clear her face. "Do you have your day clothes with you? An extra uniform?"

Daisy's shoulders slumped. "No. I wore this here today and I'm washing all of my other ones."

He watched her for a quick minute while she did little more than smear pastel desert across her front. "I'll get you one of mine."

Daisy looked up quickly, "You have an extra uniform?"

"Sure, it's just over here," he said, and walked around her to the hanger rack in the corner. He grabbed the shirt and jacket and laid them over the back of his chair. "It's not a problem."

Daisy looked beyond relieved. "Oh, Don, thank you so much!" She went in to throw her arms around him without thinking. Donald held up a hand and chuckled a bit.

"Thanks babe, but your gratitude is understood," he turned back to the door, "You change. You can leave your stuff over there, we'll take care of it later."

"Thanks hon!"

III

When Daisy emerged minutes later, she was wearing a work shirt identical to her own if not just a smidgen too large, and a sleeved jacket that was just a tad too long. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference. Donald thought she looked adorable.


	6. To Comic-Con

"How did I get roped into this?"

Donald Duck winced as he looked around, noting the handmade costumes and groups of unruly adolescents dominating the building. Nope. Comic-con was never something he had been interested in. Ever.

But he had children, and so his decisions were no longer his.

Said children were paces in front of him, excited in a way they hadn't been since they'd been young ducklings on adventures with their great Uncle. The teenage ducks were beside themselves—the entire reason they had begged to come was because Don Barks, the artist behind their absolute favorite comic series ever, was here signing copies. Donald hadn't been able to resist for long. Even now they knew how to bend his will in their favor, and he couldn't stand to be the bad guy this time.

But now he as here too. Wonderful.

Daisy, who had been merciful to her boyfriend and not a little curious, had opted to tag along, which he was grateful for. The two adult ducks hung back, following the triplets wherever they wondered.

"They're so funny," Daisy said, observing the boys, "It's like high-octane Christmas."

Don let out a hard laugh, "Yeah, no kidding. You should'a seen them when they heard that this Barks guy was gonna be here. I thought they'd pass out."

The line for autographs had been the first thing they'd gone to, and they'd waited for hours. Donald thought he was going to die on his feet, but seeing his boys talk to the guy had been more than a little gratifying, in the end. Now they were wondering the convention center, the boys talking animatedly about all the cool comic book stuff. They were wearing variations of some kind of super hero, detective hybrid. Super Snooper, Donald guessed.

He supposed that he could have lived with this, but Huey, Dewey, and Louie would not stand to be seen with an uncle who was too lame to go all out at comic-con.

Any costume would do, they said, and while he was still reeling from the revelation of having to wear a costume, they'd fished out an old t-shirt of his with the Superman insignia, and fashioned him a cape out of some reeeeaaly old drapes of the right shade. He'd put up a fight, but Dewey mentioned that, as an actor, he wore costumes like a boss all the time anyway, and Donald shut up.

Daisy linked her arm with his and smiled, "You look pretty dashing, Superman."

Don smiled back, relenting. Daisy was apparently having a great time just being there, so he supposed he should make an effort to do the same. Besides, Daisy had found a Wonder Woman costume from a couple Halloweens ago, which, eh…Donald wasn't gonna lie, he could appreciate. "Don't look too bad yourself, toots."

And thus their day continued; heavy crowds and awful smells, slow lines and loud teenagers…happy nephews and loving girlfriend. Maybe this convention thing wasn't so bad.


	7. Shopping

Donald, Daisy, Minnie, and Mickey were sat at the mall food court, having decided to have a quick bite before the shopping really began. The girls were of course chattering happily about what they were going to look at; some new spring bow by their favorite designer, a new dress shop that opened up on the second floor. Mickey and Donald were glad to be excluded from the conversation. Minnie and Daisy often brought them along to carry their excessive purchases (and really, just to show off their adorable boyfriends).

After a while, Minnie rose and spoke, "I have to go powder my nose. Daisy, come with me?"

"Of course, hon. Don't go anywhere, boys!"

And so Don and Mickey were left alone. They immediately jerked to attention. Leaning in conspiratorially, Donald asked, "Okay, is the plan still a go?"

"You bet. Mins and I went over the routes all last night."

"Good. And she's clear on the signal?"

"One of us mentions a new electronics store, and Minnie will suggest they go to Victoria's Secret, and we split up."

"And then…"

"Then we take the long way around to the east side of the building, and Minnie will keep Daisy in the west, and if Daisy starts to get suspicious Minnie will call us and ask if we're lost."

Donald leaned back in his chair. "I'm impressed. Your tactical training has paid off."

"Hu-hah, you bet!" Mickey laughed. "You feelin' good about this?"

"Yeah. I'm feelin' _real_ good about this."

Seconds later the girls returned, and conversation picked up about where to start window shopping, and Mickey and Donald were politely bored, and Minnie paid them no attention, and things were going perfectly.

III

About an hour later, between kiosks, Mickey suddenly remembered that there was a new electronics store open in this very mall.

Daisy screwed up her face. "Huh. I don't remember hearing about that."

"Oh, you and I wouldn't have paid that any attention anyway," Minnie said, then turned to address the boys, "You two go on and look. Daisy and I will go to Victoria's Secret now so you two don't have to."

Mickey smiled. "Aw, thanks Min!" And then he quickly grabbed Donald's shoulder and left.

Daisy shook her head fondly. "Oh, boys and their toys."

Minnie smirked, but said nothing.

III

The east side of the mall was, for some reason, riddled with jewelry shops. Right across from each other. It was odd, but today it served Donald Duck well.

Don was looking for a ring. An engagement ring. To give to Daisy. He got butterflies at the mere thought.

Mickey was more excited than even he was, at least outwardly. "So, what does she like? Big? Princess cut? Pink? There are pink diamonds, didja know that? Wait, were you thinking more that one stone or—"

"She likes a lot of things, Mick," Donald said as they neared a glass counter, "Just help me look for anything that looks like her. Within my price range."

"Right, right…" Mickey was distracted. Donald thought that perhaps he'd have to be returning this favor soon.

Every jewelry shop had about the same routine, where Donald would approach the counter examining each and every ring held within, a friendly attendant would ask if they could help, and they'd show him the latest designs, the most popular settings, alternate gems to diamonds (and Mickey would be wondering somewhere behind him, lost in his own exploration). Donald had plenty of "maybe"s, quite a few "if-I-were-a-millionaire"s, but he didn't know if he'd found the one yet. He felt sappy for being so set on perfection, but…this was Daisy.

At the fourth store it started again. By this point Donald only lent half an ear to the guy behind the counter. However, as soon as he heard the guy say "So, you're a sailor, right?" he looked up, startled by the break from routine.

"Uh, yeah. Yes, I am."

The guy nodded. "I noticed your clothes. Ya know, my Grandad was in the Navy."

"Give him my regards."

The young man nodded, "I will. You know, I've kinda been watching you hang around these stores. Haven't found anything you like yet?"

Donald sighed. "It's not that. There are plenty of good choices. It's just…I don't know."

After a moment or two of silence, the guy said, "Hold on one second," and went around to another glass counter. When he came back he was carrying a small display tray of rings. When he got close enough, Donald could see that they were all pearls. And he inwardly jumped. Oh gosh, it was perfect.

"My Grandad proposed to Nana with a pearl ring. She always said it was special because it came from her Navy-man. I don't know what your lady's taste is, but I figured no one has given you this option yet."

Donald nodded and gave his sincere thanks to the guy and was left to look at each pearl ring. He didn't know why, couldn't explain it, but it suddenly made him even more excited, like he was closer to finding some kind of treasure.

When he came across a simple, white gold, moderately sized white pearl with two small diamonds on either side, he was sure he'd found it.

Behind him, Mickey's phone rang loudly. "Hello?…Oh, hiya Minnie," He caught Donald's eye, and Don nodded, "yeah, we got a bit turned around. Big mall, ya know? We'll be right there."

Mickey hung up, and Donald waved over the young man behind the counter. "This one, here. This is the one."

He gave it an appraising look and grinned. "Now, that one's lovely. Do you know her ring size?"

Donald shook his head, "No, and I don't want to risk guessing."

"No problem, a lot of couples come back to get engagement rings resized. This one's a size 7. That's pretty safe."

Donald paid quickly and picked out a dark blue velvet box. "Thanks so much, kid. What's your name?"

"Trevor."

"Trevor, thanks again!" Donald said as he was being hurried away by Mickey.

"Not a problem, my friend. Good luck!"

III

They found the girls outside of a Ghirardelli's chocolate shop. Minnie ran up to hug Mickey and Daisy handed Donald a few bags with a kiss.

"So," she said as they started walking again, "Did you boys find anything?"

"Nah. Nothing too interesting. Not that I could afford, anyway."

"Isn't that the way of things? Oh! Speaking of that, you should've seen this dress we found! It was almost a thousand…"

And Donald listened, smiling a little wider with every word.

 **A/n: If anyone cares, this is about what I was picturing, with maybe just a slightly bigger pearl:** s-media-cache-ak0. pinimg 564x/94/c3/71/94c371aaee4817552128909ff3c7954c. jpg **(without spaces)**


	8. Backyard BBQ

Calisota summers were picturesque. The sky was a perfect blue and, more often than not, cloudless. It was moist enough to keep the grass green and soft and the breezes cool and refreshing.

Donald stood at his grill, flipping the next round of burgers and taking in the scene around him. His friends and family were over for the first barbecue of the summer. He looked to Goofy, who had brought a woman with him names Sylvia. He hadn't gotten the chance o talk to her yet, not really, but Daisy spoke highly of her. She seemed like a sweet woman. Donald was happy for Goofy; this was exactly what he needed.

Max was home from college too, and was kicking around a soccer ball with Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Donald allowed himself a minute to wonder at how fast those kids had grown; Max in college and his own boys in high school. Donald felt dizzy for a minute. He quickly decided to think about something else.

Mickey and Minnie were talking to Goofy and Sylvia, Mickey with one arm around Minnie. Donald shook his head a bit, but smiled. Those two were forever stuck in the "honeymoon stage", as Daisy once called it.

Suddenly a very loud, very feminine voice called out from the back door, "Yoohoooo!" It was Clarabelle, with Horace not far behind her. Clarabelle swept through the yard, thanking him for the invitation and waving grandly at the kids. She eventually settled into the conversation happening with the adults, trying to get to know this Sylvia person as quickly as she could. Horace, ever laid back, waved hello and went to join in the soccer game with the kids.

Donald felt a hand at his back. Daisy had come out from the kitchen, wearing a light pink sundress, and held a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and a glass in the other. "Hey, hon," she said, and poured the glass full, handing it too him.

Don took the glad and kissed her forehead, "Thanks, Daze." He took a long swig and set the glass down on the table beside him. "Have you heard from Scrooge?"

"Mhm. He called not too long ago and said he'd be here by one-thirty. He asked if he could bing Webby along."

"I hope you said yes."

"Of course I did. I like that girl."

Donald checked the burgers once more and laid them out on a platter as they finished. He let out one loud shout of "FOOD!" and every one flocked the grill at once. When everybody was settled with food and rink and sat around the lawn tables and in fold out chairs, Donald allowed himself to grab his own plate.

"Uncle D!" He looked to the sound, and saw his nephews waving him over. He say between Huey and Mickey, at what had beed unofficially dubbed the "guy's table." He looked across the tables and met Daisy's eye. She grinned behind her drink and winked before returning to her conversation with Clarabelle.

Donald grinned himself. He didn't have the best luck, but doggone it, sometimes things just went right.


	9. Ears

"Come on, Don, it isn't that bad."

"It's ridiculous."

"You're showing support for your friend! That isn't a bad thing, hon."

"I'm humiliating myself."

"Donald Duck, I'm surprised at you. Mickey is up there nervous as all heck and nobody but us is available to come and support him with his speech, it's Disneyland's busiest season and all he needs is a friend."

"…"

"A good, perfect friend who will always stand by bis buddy's side to show silent support, no matter how much they argue."

"…"

"…"

"…fine."

"…and those Mouse Ears look cute on you."

"Shaddup."


	10. Kigurumi

Huey, Dewey, and Louie were staring, utterly gobsmacked, at their uncle. They were sat on the couch, limp and with their mouths wide open. Near them, Daisy was beside herself with laughter, far beyond the ladylike giggles she usually stuck with and in near hysterics, with makeup running down her face.

The source of all this was, of course, Donald, who was in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes after his birthday dinner, whistling the tune of a cheery shanty. In a full-body Grumpy Cat kigurumi.

See, the triplets had learned about kigurumi from a friend at school weeks prior, and knowing their Uncle D's birthday was coming, they of course saw an opportunity. The also, of course, had a perfectly legitimate, well-thought-out gift that they'd planned to give him after the gag gift to sooth the fit of frustration they were sure was to come. But that was utterly forgotten when he'd just gone ahead and put the thing on like it was completely commonplace in their house, right over his Hawaiian shirt.

Daisy knew what he was doing. She'd seen it in his eyes as soon as Don had realized his nephews' plan. He wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. She would have been impressed with his restraint if she wasn't too busy remembering how to breathe properly.

Donald came back into the living room, having finished with the dishes, and smiled all too casually at his family. "So," he said, "I think it's still early enough to catch a movie tonight. Get in the car, boys, we'll pick the movie on the way to the theater," and he grabbed his keys and made to open the front door.

All at once, Louie yelled and ran in front of Donald, Dewey called Daisy's name as a vague plea for some sort of assistance, and Huey stayed right where he was, looking very close to passing out.

Donald looked at Daisy, in all his Grumpy Cat glory, and quirked and eyebrow and smirked. Her riotous laughter could be heard through the neighborhood.


	11. Summer Days

"Louie, hold the ice cream cone upright."

Little Louie did as he was told, toddling after his brothers with both hands around the cone. They raced to the swing set—the smaller one, as per their uncle's orders. The beautiful summer day had drawn many families to the park, and children ran rampant. Donald might have found this aggravating a few months ago, but now…now he was here with three kids and a lady. Who'da thought it?

Donald and Daisy found a bench not too far away from the triplets and sat themselves down, Don with one arm around her. Daisy took another lick of her own ice cream and smiled up at him.

"They're so cute," she said.

Donald was watching the boys. Like a hawk and ready to be next to them in half a second, just in case. Like he had since they'd shown up on his doorstep. "Yeah," he said, "I guess they are." Donald was still recovering from his rather rapid transition from a rather brine-crusted existence of a single sailor to, well, complete domesticity. He still felt like he'd been placed into an alternate dimension.

Daisy had come along not long after that, a couple of months ago now. He liked her, she was feisty and lovely and he had no idea what he was doing. Seemed to be a running theme.

A shout from Huey brought him out of his musings, and he almost jumped to his feet. Upon inspection though, it was a sound of joy and not distress. He, Dewey and Louie were trying to get up as high as they could on the kiddie swings. And they were still holding their ice cream; that worked out about as good as you'd expect, with Huey's mouth covered in a brown chocolatey mess, Dewey's in white, and Louie's in pink. Donald chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, alright, they're pretty cute."

Daisy giggled too, and Don thought it was a lovely sound. She handled him having kids (that was weird) remarkable well, he thought, especially with him being only nineteen. She knew the story of course, but it was still a big deal. A problem, he thought, with any other woman. She herself was freshly eighteen and he was forever grateful for her help.

"You know," she said, "you're a good dad."

Donald almost choked on his milkshake.

"What—uh…I'm—"

Daisy went right on talking. "You're wonderful with them and they love you. And…you didn't have to keep them. You could've put them up for adoption in Della's place. But you chose to keep them together."

Donald felt uncomfortable at the mention of adoption. He'd thought about doing just that, very briefly, and it was not a moment he liked to remember due to the sick feeling that followed immediately afterwards.

"But you kept them together," Daisy went on, "you did something very brave and loving, and look at them now," both looked at the kids, covered in ice cream and laughing together. Donald grinned a bit, himself.

Daisy used a finger to turn his head to her again. "You're their father in every way but name."

Donald felt uncommonly proud, and more than a little bashful at Daisy's words. They'd moved to the point in their new relationship where they were opening up more, not beating around the bushes too much. Donald found out that Daisy liked talking and was very good at reading people when she wanted to be. That he'd been evaluated by her and deemed so worthy was at once an ego boost and a force to knock him off his game. He should roll with this moment, he thought, return her sentiment. She'd helped him so much, he doubted he'd have been able to hold himself together this long if she had'd waltzed into his life. He wanted her to stay with him; he hoped she was becoming as invested in this relationship as he was. He wanted in his heart of hearts to tell her all of this.

But Donald Duck was never a wordsmith.

"…You've got ice cream on your nose."

Daisy's eyes widened a bit and she sat back to set herself right. When she spied Donald working to hold his laughter in, she gave her one devious smile and shoved the rest of her vanilla cone into his face. Don sat there in shock for a moment…and then opened his arms and went after her for a hug. Daisy squeaked and got off the bench.

"C'mere toots, give me a kiss."

"Ah! Don, no!—"

The other parents at the park were watching them like they were nut jobs. Maybe they were. That was fine.

It didn't take long for Huey, Dewey, and Louie to spot the play fight between their uncle and Daisy, and they were quick to join. They ran into the fray, wielding their ice cream covered hands as weapons.

"Unca Donal!"

"Play!"

Donald scooped up a laughing Dewey and Louie, covering them in place of Daisy. Huey in turn ran after Daisy, dirtying the hem of her dress in chocolaty handprints. She didn't mind.

Later, they'd go to the beach under the pretense of "washing up." Later, they'd catch the new movie that the boys wanted to see at the drive-in. Later, Daisy would kiss Huey, Dewey, and Louie goodnight before giving Donald a real one.

Now, they were a family.


	12. Donna and David

**A/n: Alright, let's just get some things straight: 1940s, HumanAU, genderswapped. Yes? Cool. Onward.**

David wasn't one to frequent bars. He found himself fiddling incessantly with his suit jacket and clearing his throat more times that he could count. It was his friend Clarence's idea, this bar thing, and David had regretted it from the moment they'd entered.

Clarence and the other men he'd managed to drag along were already at the bar ordering drinks, more than one having found a willing young woman to flirt with. These particular women weren't to David's taste—not that they were bad people, just that they seemed a bit…well. There was no good way to finish that thought.

He supposed though that he might as well join the fun, if only to pass the time. What was a little harmless flirting? He certainly was no stranger to such games.

He spotted a nice looking young lady who seemed to be new to this scene. Safe enough. He got up to go talk to her, but someone over her shoulder caught his eye. And not at all for the reason he'd have expected.

It was another woman, perhaps closer to his age, slooped over the far side of the bar with a heavy-looking drink in her hand. Her brow was heavily furrowed and her mouth was drawn into a slight sneer, like it was that way by default. Even from this distance David could see that her face was dirty, and she was wearing— _goodness_ — _pants_. Pants and a loose navy work blouse. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled into a low, uninteresting ponytail, out of her face. She looked like she could kick his ass to next Thursday and finish her beer at the same time.

David stood frozen for the briefest of moments, but it seemed like much longer. This… _lady_ …well, if the others weren't to his taste, she was definitely out. But, there was something about her that was just so…interesting. She stood out so starkly against the other girls—that's what they looked like next to this one, _girls_ —and David's feet began moving him toward her almost at their own accord. He didn't know what he'd do when he got to her, though, or what he'd say. Somehow he doubted that his usual charm wouldn't do the trick.

Before he could figure it out he was next to her, less than two feet from her so they could hear each other over the din of the bar. She of course caught him as he was making his way over, and as he stopped she fixed him with an unimpressed glare over her shoulder. She smelled like fish and cigar smoke. That was fine, somehow; it fit her. David started to inwardly fumble for words.

She beat him to it, "You lost?" Her voice had a well-worn roughness to it, and even at its quietest it was forceful.

David had no choice but to fall back on what he knew. "I was wondering if I might buy a lady a drink."

She snorted. "Funny, I don't see a lady around here."

David was startled, and he could feel his cool demeanor already cracking. "Well, I…mean to say, you, miss."

She scoffed then and turned back to the counter, "Not interested."

David wasn't going to give up. Now it was a contest. "Please, I insist. Surely you'd like to—"

"Take a hint, prettyboy," She said, and fixed him with a _real_ glare this time, complete with bared teeth.

It would have scared off any other man; indeed it had done so to every other man that had come too close. But David, instead of being intimidated, found that he was at his last nerve.

"Listen honey, I'm trying to be nice to ya," he said, "All I did was offer to buy you a drink, like any decent man would, and you act like I'm trying to attack you or something! You don't have to like me, that's fine! You never have to see me again! But for goodness sakes, do you want the drink or not?"

The woman turned to him again, fully facing him this time. She looked at him hard for a long moment, looking him up and down. They were an odd sight, with her looking unkempt as she did and him in a tailored suit and with perfect hair. She knew this and he knew this. This wouldn't work. Then she smirked.

"Donna," she said.

"Donna?…" _Her name._

She got off the barstool. "I get off work everyday at seven. Usually end up here," she said. She hadn't paid the tab. "See ya around, prettyboy."

She— _Donna_ —was out of the bar before David had collected himself enough to react. He snapped out of if when the bartender addressed him with a "Hey, you gonna pay for that or what?"

David just nodded and fished out his wallet, and paid— _bought her the drink_. He smiled.

He could do seven.


	13. Costume

Donald found Daisy sitting on the stairs below the deck of the ship, lost in thought. She looked as melancholy as he did. He circled behind the stairs, knowing this was a conversation that needed to be had. Daisy didn't acknowledge his presence.

Donald spoke, disturbing the delicate silence, "You left Jack to the Kraken."

Daisy looked uncomfortable. "He's rescued, now it's done with."

Daisy still wasn't looking at him, and at this point he turned away from her also. Daisy saw this, and desperately tried to explain herself, loath to lose him, "Will, I had no choice!"

He was having none of it, "You chose not to tell me."

"I couldn't! It wasn't your burden to bare."

He turned back to her now, fierce in his sincerity, "But I did bare it, didn't I?" He said. His expression softened as he looked at her, "I just didn't know what it was. I thought…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Realization dawned on Daisy's face. "You thought I loved him," she said. Disbelieving, she made to leave him. He stopped her with a solid hand on her arm. He gently but firmly pushed her back to the pillar behind her; she needed to hear him, _listen_ to him. He'd make sure she did. "If you make your decisions alone," he said, "how can I trust you?"

Daisy searched his eyes, and with both regret and resolve, she whispered the truest answer she could, "You can't."

She left swiftly then, and he let her. He could do nothing else.

…

"CUT! Fantastic everyone. Let's get thing set up for the next shot…"

Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of the tech and prop crew bustling about. Donald let out a deep sigh as Daisy made her way back down the short staircase to him, this time smiling. "Hey, you."

Don smiled back, "Hey yourself."

"We did good today."

Donald nodded. He was glad he was managing; he hadn't been feeling his best today.

Someone shouted "Striking!" and the set lights went out.

"Oh, thank you," Donald said, and grabbed a bit of his shirt front to air himself off. "The heat from those lights is killing me."

"Oh, don't even, Mister Puffy Shirt," Daisy said, giving him the eye, "Do you know how many layers I'm wearing right now?"

Donald laughed, "Sorry, toots." She was right after all. She was all wrapped up and his short could hardly be considered covering.

Daisy knew this, too. "I will say though," she said after a moment, "you should wear stuff like that more often."

Don looked at her like she was crazy. "Seriously? I look like a desperate theatre student off-set in this."

"I like it."

"Of course you do," he said, and then smirked, "I'm practically shirtless."

Daisy blushed a bit but ignored it. "Oh you are not. It's just, like, a tiny bit of your chest."

Don playfully backed off. "Alright, fine, deny it," he said theatrically, "But you know you're attracted to all _this_ ," and struck a macho pose.

Daisy giggled, but denied nothing. "At least that's true for one of us," she said, "You look super hot and I look like a dirty, armored ninja. I'm covered everywhere."

"I like it."

"You do not, you liar."

"No, really," Don said and messed a bit with her professionally wet and tangled hair, "It makes you look…I don't know, dangerous."

"And you like that?"

It was Donald's turn to blush. "Well, I mean…"

Daisy was merciful and saved him, "I guess I get what you're saying. I mean, I like it when you look all unkempt and covered in sea salt, sailor boy."

"…You saying we should dress like pirates on the regular, then?"

"Oh, no. You look great all manly and adventury hon, but I need my cute dresses."

Don only chuckled.

The director called out from somewhere over Donald's shoulder, "Alright, next scene! Places. Anyone have eyes on Johnny?…"

Dona straightened. "Duty calls," he said. He gave Daisy a peck and turned to get to the other set.

"Knock 'em dead, sweetie!"

"Anything for you, my pirate princess."

 **A/n: I'm in the process of developing a story where the core Disney characters are, in fact, actors, and part of it really does involve Don and Daisy replacing Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley in the roles of Will and Elizabeth. Doodles can be found on my deviantART.**


	14. Good Morning

**A/n: This is a Human!AU in my head. It does not have to be in yours. Just, Daisy had hair, and Don shaves.**

Donald awoke on the morning of Christmas Eve to being dog-piled by his nephews.

Naturally, his first reaction was to panic. He yelled, hit his head on the headboard, and may or may not have let a curse word fly before realizing what had happened.

"Doggone it, boys!" he said, and then fell back onto the pillows behind him, "you're getting too old for this."

Huey laughed, "Don't you mean _you're_ getting too old for this, Uncle D?"

The glare Don sent them only increased their mirth.

He groaned, noticing at last how tired he still was. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty," Dewey told him.

"What? Why on earth are you waking me up at seven thirty? Christmas it tomorrow."

Louie bounced a bit on the bed, looking excited, "But Mrs. Beakly makes her special breakfast the day before Christmas, remember? Because she'll be working on dinner all day tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah," Donald was not a morning person, but…Mrs. Beakly was an exceptional cook. "I'll be down in a bit boys, you go on."

"Don't be too long! We're not saving you any bacon."

III

Once the boys had left the room Donald made his way into the bathroom attached to the room he inhabited during stays at Uncle Scrooge's mansion. From inside, he could hear water running and see the light on from under the door. Daisy must be up already. His room and her's shared this bathroom (Scrooge insisted that they sleep separately in his house, completely overestimating the forwardness of the relationship between the two; he needn't have worried). He knocked, and received a distracted "Come in" in response. What he found when he entered brought a full smile.

Daisy was in her silk nightclothes, a floor-length pink gown and robe, bent over the sink and scrubbing her face raw, with every inch of her hair done up in rollers. Don chuckled a little. She was still gorgeous.

"Morning, beautiful."

Daisy looked at him in the mirror, "Good morning yourself, darling. What on earth are you doing up?"

"The boys were kind enough to wake me for breakfast."

"How thoughtful."

"Yeah, they're heaven-sent."

Daisy smiled and dried her face. Time to apply makeup.

Donald watched her begin with her…foundation? He thought that was it. Maybe. She was lovely without her make up, of course, but Daisy never did anything to diminish her natural beauty. Don snapped out of it a second later, and went to the second sink to her left. He examined himself in the mirror, running a hand over his jaw. Shaving would probably be a good idea.

He took the tin and began to lather the shaving soap, not noticing Daisy's own observation of him. Taking his cream brush, he ran it over his neck and jaw. Setting all that aside, he fished in his travel bag for his razor, and brought that out as well.

Daisy could stay quiet no longer. "…You shave with a straight razor?"

Donald was a bit startled. "Didn't you know that?"

"No. I've never seen you shave before."

Don pondered that while he sharpened the tool on the strop. Hadn't she? He knew they'd kept their relationship rather conservative, but they'd been dating for long enough for this discovery to have already happened. He'd seen her do her makeup before…somewhere…

"How'd I know you slept in curlers, then?"

"I dunno. I've probably ranted to you about it once or twice."

"Hmm."

"Well, go on. Don't let me stop you."

Donald did as he was told, bringing the razor to his cheek and making the first few strokes. He didn't fail to notice Daisy's less-than-subtle watch, though.

He raised an eyebrow and went about his task. "Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?"

"It's very rustic," she said, as she too returned to the task of applying her makeup."

"You know I'm old-fashioned."

"But now I'm seeing 'old-fashioned' in action and I like it a lot."

"Do you now?"

"Mhm."

The conversation faded out, due to both of them being preoccupied; Daisy with making sure her lipstick stayed on her lips, and Don trying not to bleed. Still, a glance stolen from both partied every now and then was to be expected. The only sound in the bathroom was the gentle _schlllick_ of his razor and her gentle, intermittent hums.

After the minutes had passed, Donald made one final inspection of his face and minced off the rest of the lather. A dash of aftershave and a rough fix of his hair later, and he was good to go. "I'll be back," he said, and then went to look for an outfit he hadn't slept in.

When he got back to Daisy, dressed and ready, she was on the last let of her endeavor: mascara. She looked at him and smiled. "Hello, handsome." But when she saw that he wasn't leaving, she said, "Oh, hon, you don't have to wait. I've still got my hair to do and I'm not dressed yet. You go ahead."

"Meh. I'll wait with you."

"Oh please, Don, I—"

"I'd like to escort my lady to breakfast."

And with that, they were quiet again. Companionable silence wasn't exactly foreign to the two, but neither of them were commonly classified as "quiet." It was nice, though. Don leaned against the doorframe and watched her take her rollers out one by one, releasing the mass of the palest blonde hair he'd ever seen. It still amazed him, her fairness. Everything about her was light; her skin was a healthy-looking pale, her hair almost white by nature, and she had pure, powdery blue eyes. She looked like an angel. He could objectively acknowledge the beauty of other traits. Minnie, for example, had black hair and dark doe-eyes that drove Mickey bonkers. Sylvia, who he'd gotten to know better, had an understated kind of beauty that allowed anyone to feel calm and happy around her. He'd even had a few exotic exes from his extended stay in Latin America, who's beauty could not be doubted. But Daisy, _his_ Daisy, was simply unearthly.

He was snapped out of his trance by Daisy saying his name. "Huh?" was his intelligent response.

"I asked if you were alright. You got a funny look on your face for a second there."

Don realized that while he'd been, well, _out_ , so to speak, she'd brushed out her curls and pinned back the strands around her face. She was ready, aside from her nightclothes. "Sorry," Don said, "just lost track of my thoughts."

Daisy accepted his answer and went into her room to change. Don took one more moment to right his hair (should he have spent more time on that?…nah) and then went to wait in the hallway for his darling.

When Daisy emerged, she was wearing a simple, dark green day dress. Donald smiled, and she smiled back.

"Shall we, my dear?"

"Oh yes, let's."

And the day begun.


	15. Big Spoon Little Spoon

Daisy Duck was tired. Tuesday night and she was already done with the week. She was alright though; she'd put on her frumpy sweats and popped in _Kate and Leopold_ , and ate more chocolate than she'd ever care to admit while in the fetal position on her couch.

Near the end, when Kate was just about to jump off the bridge and go back in time, right around midnight, Daisy heard her front door being unlocked. She wasn't worried. Who else would have a key to her house but Donald?

She heard him sigh and drop his work case on the floor. Moments later he was at the foot of the couch and unbuttoning his dress shirt. "What's on?" he asked.

" _Kate and Leopold_."

"Is it one of those romantic thingies?"

"Uhuh."

He then climbed over the far armrest and squeezed himself between her and the back of the couch, in his undershirt and dress pants. Positioned so his nose was buried in her hair he slung an arm over Daisy's waist and pulled her closer.

"…Donald?"

"Mmm."

"What about the boys?"

"Scrooge's place."

"Sooo…couch, then?"

"Mmmmm…"

Soon thereafter, Daisy heard the slight snores coming from her boyfriend. She finished her movie, turned off the TV, and snuggled further into his chest for the night.


	16. Together

Daisy was looking around for Donald. Wandering through Scrooge's expansive mansion had become easier over the years as she'd gotten her footing, but losing another person was just as annoying as it had been at the beginning. Now, as she searched for her boyfriend, she wondered vaguely if the halls were enchanted; she'd never find her destination.

But, on her fourth circuit through the main entryway, she practically ran into him in her haste.

"Woah, Daze, where's the fire?"

"Sorry Donald. Did you know Scrooge had a piano?"

"Uhh…"

It didn't matter. Daisy took his arm and dragged him along behind her.

III

She lead them to a large, empty room—a small ballroom-type space that might have served as an area for social mingling had Scrooge been inclined to host larger get-togethers. As it was, the room looked like it had been untouched for years. Sheets covered the furniture and fixtures, and the draped were covering the windows.

In one corner of the room, however, there was a grand piano, its covering having been pulled aside earlier by Daisy herself, and now it shone in stark contrast against the dusty environment.

Daisy let go pf his arm and sat herself down on the bench. "I was so happy to find it. You know, I've never really had the chance to play a real, _grand_ piano before. Not that I really play, you know that, but, still…"

And she played a simple melody. Chord progressions, basic stuff, but lovely nonetheless. Wonderful for someone who'd never had a lesson in her life.

Once it seemed that she was done, Donald hummed in appreciation, "I'm amazed that it's still in tune."

Daisy removed her fingers from the keys. She signed wistfully. "I wish I could play. Like, _really_ play." She then thought for a moment. "Does Uncle Scrooge play? I can't imagine he'd have bought a piano without a legitimate reason."

"Oh yeah, he plays. Played. Him and his sisters; it was just something that their family did."

"…Why'd he stop?"

"I, uh…I think it had something to do with Goldie," Donald said, and tried to seem indifferent, "after her, there was just…no one but him, you know?"

Daisy nodded in understanding, and didn't speak again for some time. She didn't know the details of Scrooge McDuck's past, and had never asked; if Donald was hesitant with sharing the information, than it was sensitive and she wouldn't bring it up. But she knew the general story, of how even Scrooge had been in love, once.

She looked up at her own love, who was surveying the space they were in as if it were some undiscovered cave. He'd lived a life that, while less grueling than his uncle's had been, wasn't easy and certainly wasn't without the loneliness Scrooge had experienced. How lucky they all were, she thought, that he'd overcome it all.

After an appropriate time, in an attempt to keep up conversation, she asked, "So your mother played, too?"

Donald looked back to her, snapped out of his own pondering. "Yup. She played the piano every day when Del and I were really little. Like a pro."

Daisy smiled at this. Brief as her time was, Hortense was around long enough for her son to adore her.

Donald went on, "Actually, she, eh…" he hesitated only briefly, "she insisted that we learn, too. Della didn't take to it much, but I wasn't too shabby, if I can say so."

"So you were a regular Mozart as a six year old?"

"Grandma had one too. A piano, I mean. It's been a while, but…"

Daisy at once was off of the bench, looking at Donald expectantly.

Donald grinned a bit at her enthusiasm, and sat. He stretched his fingers and began with something easy enough. Pachelbel's _Canon in D_ rang through the room, and though he stumbled a bit at first, Donald warmed up quickly enough. He glanced sideways at Daisy, who was watching his hands intently with a small smile on her face. He scooted himself over a tad, enough for her to see his intention, and she sat beside him. Minutes passed, and Donald shifted the song to one she could sing to. He hoped she would.

As the first chords of _How Deep is the Ocean_ played, Daisy turned to Donald, a bit startled. Donald only smiled and nodded, and she grinned brighter. Whole-heartedly, she began to sing.

 _How much do I love you?_

 _I'll tell you no lie_

 _How deep is the ocean?_

 _How high is the sky?…_

Daisy had a truly amazing voice, and Donald was certain that his opinion wasn't one born of his affection for her; she'd never had a vocal lesson either, but while she'd lacked a piano to figure out in her youth, she'd spent her entire life with her voice at her disposal, and she'd learned to use it. She was remarkable, and Donald took every opportunity to remind people of that whenever he could, including Daisy herself.

The song rose, swelled, dwindled, and ended; and the two sat in silence, enchanted. Daisy leaned against him even more, and Don took her smaller hang in his.

That was, until a polite " _ahem_ " brought them out of their silence. The both looked to the source, seeing Scrooge himself standing in the large doorway. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Daisy shook her head and smiled a bit sheepishly, "Oh, no, Uncle Scrooge. Um, I hope you don't mind. I found you piano, and—"

"Don't worry yourself, dear. It's about time this old thing found a purpose."

Daisy relaxed, seeing that he wasn't upset. Scrooge walked toward the couple, examining the room as he crossed it. "I haven't opened up this room in ages. And I don't like wasting space. Perhaps I shape hold a holiday party here, this year."

Daisy was delighted. "Oh, do you mean it, Uncle Scrooge?" She adored black- or white-tie events, as she knew Scrooge was partial to.

Scrooge smiled at her. She reminded him of Goldie, if just a little; Daisy was softer, more delicate, but with the same passion and enthusiasm for life. He'd never say it out loud, but he was immensely proud that Donald had managed to find and keep such a woman. She was a welcome addition to the family. "Only if you promise to delight the company with a song, my dear." At this she hid her face bashfully, but he could see her happy expression.

"Nao," he said, "don't let me stop you. Nephew, do continue. If you don't mind, I'd like to listen."

Donald, who had been quietly studying his uncle, came to a silent decision and simply turned his attention back to the piano. He played, and Daisy sang, and Scrooge wasn't upset. Wasn't wallowing. One day, Donald would be sure to thank Daisy for whatever she'd done to bring the old miser out of his funk when it came to music, to what it meant in his past. But for now, he just played the piano.

 **A/n:** ** _How Deep is the Ocean_** **is a beautiful song written by Irving Berlin, published in 1932. The 30s and 40s are the eras I think of when it comes to Don and Daisy. The period suits them, I think, and even though Daisy's probably caught up with the musical trends, Donald probably sticks to the classics, let's be honest. Here is the url for the song, sung by Julie Andrews (without spaces)-do take a listen, it's a lovely song!**

www. youtube watch?v= 42eaPw469Qc


	17. White-tie

Scrooge kept to his word, and in early December there was a gala at McDuck mansion. It wasn't an exceptionally large affair, with only family and friends invited. By eight thirty everyone was there; Mickey and Minnie had come from Mouseton, Goofy and company had driven up, and so on. It was a white-tie event, completely formal, as per Scrooge's taste—he'd even spent the money for a string quartet and decent food. Donald was impressed.

Don stood to the side with a champagne flute. He wore a white shirt, waistcoat and bowtie, and black dress pants, Oxfords, and tailcoat. He observed the crowd. He usually wasn't one for this sort of thing, but even he could admit it was a good turnout. And he looked dang good in this outfit.

"Hey, Don," it was Mickey, coming up from his right, "What're you doing over here by yourself?"

"Standing aloofly while I await my lady love. And you?"

"Not much, really." Mickey settled in beside him and followed his friend's gaze to find Huey, Dewey, and Louie, who were dressed identically an had brought along…triplet sisters? That was interesting. Mickey made a mental note not to ask names. "Actually, I was wanting to thank you for the invitation."

"It's my uncle's party Mick, not mine."

"He's occupied. I was hoping you'd pass on the sentiment."

"I'll make sure to do that. You and Minnie look like you're having a good time."

Mickey grinned that grin he reserved for conversations about Minnie. It was completely stupid-looking, Donald thought, but he guessed it was sweet. "She's thrilled," Mickey said, "She loves this kind of thing. It makes her feel like a princess."

"Ha. Daisy feels the same way."

A waltz began, and Minnie caught Mickey's eye from across the room. Mickey made to excuse himself, but Donald beat him to it. "Go on, you palooka."

"Thanks Don," and he was off. Don chuckled a bit. That mouse was whipped.

"Oh _Donald…_ "

Then again, he was too.

"There you are. You look very handsome."

Donald turned to Daisy. She was wearing a full, floor length indigo gown and had done her hair up in an elegant undo that he couldn't name. Absolutely beautiful, he thought. "And you, toots, look enchanting."

"' _Enchanting?_ ' Wow, you're feeling romantic tonight."

"What do you expect? I'm dressed like a romantic lead."

"Oooh, does that make me the love interest?"

Donald took her hand and kissed it, grinning, "Of course, my darling."

Daisy laughed. She knew what he was doing; he was buttering her up. It was working. And he just kept on doing it.

"Care to dance?"

Still working.

"I'd love to."

 **A/n: This can be seen as a continuation of the last chapter, if just a bit. A white-tie event is a step up from a black-tie event, and is the most formal and strictest dress code. Like, full skirts and tailcoats. It's pretty fabulous.**


	18. Let's Dance

Mickey slid onto center stage at the House of Mouse for his usual introduction. "Hiya, folks!" And the crowd cheered back. "We've got a swell treat in store for ya! Tonight's swing dance night here at the club, with music from the Glenn Biller band!" The crowd cheered even louder, "But first, here's a cartoon!"

Minnie ran over to Daisy, beaming, "IIII~ am so excited!" She sang. Minnie was wearing a red swing dress with white polka dots for the night. Her full skirt flounced as she neared Daisy.

Daisy herself smiled at Minnie's enthusiasm. Minnie was usually collected, especially compared to Daisy's energetic nature. But tonight, she was practically dancing in place. Minnie and Mickey lived for this kind of thing. Daisy smirk and made such a remark.

"So are you two going to be dancing the whole time, or just for the really cute, couple-y songs?"

"Oh, hush," said Minnie, but she was still smiling nonetheless. "Ooh, I love your dress!"

"Thank you very much!" Daisy had worn a pastel purple sweetheart dress, overlaid with chiffon. She gave a twirl for Minnie and the two giggled. Mickey came over then intending to steal Minnie away. Minnie turned back to Daisy, but Daisy just smiled and waved her away. Who was she to get in the way of those two?

Minutes later, Donald came up to her counter. "Hiya toots," he said, grinning, "What's shakin'?"

"Minie, apparently," she said, pointing over his shoulder at their friends who were dancing in the middle of the space that had bee created for the activity; Mickey was spinning and practically flinging Minnie all over the place and she seemed to be loving it.

Donald and Daisy looked at them with varying degrees of amusement and confusion. "Look at 'em," Donald said, "amateurs."

"You said it, hon," Daisy said, "We could out-dance them any day." She'd said it as sort of a joke, but then Donald rounded the counter and held a hand out to her. He smirked.

"Then let's show 'em."

When Donald and Daisy made their way to the middle of the floor, there were a number of whistles and cheers; the two weren't as prone to grab attention as a couple, and people knew things were about to get serious. The Glen Biller band—well, Huey, dewey, and Louie in period clothes, anyway—spotted them as well, and quickly began playing _Sing! Sing! Sing!_

And then they started dancing. Say what you will about Don and Daisy, the ducks were the ones that _owned_ swing.


	19. Baking

"Daisy, cooking is an art, baking is a science. You really, really need to follow the recipe."

"I know, it just looked so…bland."

"…That's because it's vanilla cake."

Daisy was a wonderful cook. She usually handled most holiday dinners and pot-luck contributions. In fact, just days ago she'd made her best chicken casserole for a backyard picnic at Clarabelle's. Minnie, on the other hand, had brought various French-ish pastries that everyone, Daisy included, fell in love with. Daisy had never before that point considered baking to be a necessary skill to have, but as much as she enjoyed cooking she figured it might be nice to expand her horizons.

So she asked Donald to teach her.

Don was no pro, but he'd made enough birthday cakes and apology cookies to know the basics. It generally entailed following precise directions with minor modifications for quality, and as a man of logic he found it rather simple.

Daisy had always had an artistic spirit. When she cooked she could toss in spices on a whim and mix flavors and textures and make it all work. Moments ago she'd added tablespoons of vanilla and some lemon juice because her cake batter had looked too "bland".

Don waved his hand dismissively, and said, "You know, let's just try again. You get everything set up and I'll take care of this." He then took the ruined batter and put it aside with the other batters and burnt cakes and mutations.

Daisy sighed and began arranging the ingredients and measuring tools on the counter as neatly as possible. It had been hours and frankly, her enthusiasm was gone.

Donald caught her sigh. "Babe?"

"I can't do it."

"Sure you can, you just need practice like anyone else."

"No really!" She turned around to face him, looking distraught, "It isn't making sense to me."

"Well…maybe it just isn't your thing—"

"But why not?!" Daisy was getting really upset about this, more than Donald was sure was necessary. But he'd never tell her that.

"Daze, you're a fantastic cook. You don't need to be a master at everything."

"You can do both."

Don nodded, "Yes, I can. I can't sing, or paint, or sew, or drive a snowmobile; I'm not charming or gentle or poised. But yes, I can cook and I can bake."

Daisy had caught on halfway through his speech, and was grinning crookedly by the time he was done. When Donald approached her, and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, she didn't protest.

"You don't have to be perfect, Daisy. You're close enough as it is." And then he kissed her. A sweet peck…for more than one reason.

"…You taste like sugar," Daisy said.

"Well you taste like baking soda, so consider yourself lucky."

Daisy swatted his chest playfully. She turned then to the mess they'd made out of the kitchen. Daisy winced a little. "So…should we start cleaning?"

"Mmm…nah. The boys will be home soon anyway. They're gonna want dinner."

"And you're going to enlist their help with this, right?"

Don smiled. Daisy shook her head.

"Well," she said, "what are we going to give them? We don't really have any more room to make dinner."

"…Chinese take-out?"

"Perfect."


	20. Argument

**A/n: So sorry for the long wait. I wish I had an excuse.**

 **Anyway, there is an earlier chapter that kind of has something to do with what's going on here. For some kind of continuity, we can assume that this chapter came before the other one.**

"How much longer, Donald?!"

"The wait gets a little longer every time you bring it up, sweetheart!"

Donald and Daisy stood in the latter's kitchen, glaring at each other over the island. Once again, the pair had stumbled into an argument, as per usual. However on this particular night, in this particular argument, the anger wasn't a fallback, or a superficial bicker. Earlier that day, on everyone's lunch break, their little group had been discussing the fresh marriage of a coworker. Minnie, Daisy, Clarabelle, and Sylvia had been mooning over the ring and the dress and how cute the couple was. The guys, of course, didn't; they grew bored of gossiping about someone else, harmless as the topic may have been. At one point Goofy had asked the guys if they'd thought about marriage. Donald had laughed.

Daisy noticed.

So there they stood, one feeling rejected and one feeling put on the spot, letting it all out in the privacy of Daisy's little kitchen.

Daisy kept shouting, "We've been together for years, Donald! _Years!_ I've been waiting for almost as long. And you're telling me that not once did you ever think of committing yourself to this relationship—"

"I _AM_ committed!—"

"I thought you loved me! If you loved me, you'd marry me!"

Don turned his back to her, passing a hand over his face. This was too much to deal with. Usually fights like this made him angrier, but this one just made him feel…tired. So terribly tired. He turned back to Daisy and in a quiet, controlled voice he said, "I do love you. You know I love you. If I believed marriage was actually what you wanted I'd ask you in a heartbeat."

Daisy was quiet for a moment, caught off-guard by his demeanor. She took a few moments to try to collect herself. "What—I don't understand—"

"Who bought you that necklace?"

Daisy was once again confused by his logic. She brought her hand up to the piece of jewelry around her throat; a pear-shaped pink diamond, surrounded by numerous smaller white diamonds on a platinum chain. It was one of her favorites to wear out. "Y-you did, Donald."

"No I didn't."

Daisy sighed in exasperation. She clearly remembered the date to the opera, the night on the town, the beautiful piece of jewelry that she'd spotted in the window before having it handed to her by Glads—Gladstone…

"…Oh. It—it's just a necklace, Don."

"I don't give a damn about the necklace, Daisy," Donald said, his voice getting steadily louder once again, "I care about the date. That one and every other one just like it. You stand there lecturing _me_ about commitment but _you're_ the one who hangs off the arm of every good-looking rich guy who happens to cross your path!"

Donald was shouting by the end of his short rant. Daisy was in tears. Don might've been too.

Daisy scrambled for something to say. "It wasn't—I just—It was just a bit of f-fun, Don! You know I'd never—"

"But _you DID!"_

Donald's voice echoed briefly in the smothering silence. He braced himself against the counter top, looking every bit as drained as he felt. When he spoke again, his voice was heavy and quiet.

"You don't want to marry me, Daisy. You want a rock on your finger that shows the world that someone wants you. I love _you_ Daisy, not the idea of you. I'll marry you when I believe you could say the same."

And then he left. He walked passed her without meeting her eye, and slammed the door behind him. Daisy staid frozen where she stood until she heard his car start up and drive away. When all she could hear was the silence of her own loneliness, she slid down to the floor and cried.

In his car, Donald might've cried, too.


	21. Making Up

Donald shuffled his feet as he stood on the doorstep of Daisy's house. Their fight had left the both of them sore and it had been a good four days since he'd spoken to her. He felt like a heel. Well, to be fair, he didn't want to take back anything he said, but gosh he could have handled that better.

It was an issue. It was something that needed to be worked out, sooner rather than later. It couldn't be avoided. With that in mind, he raised his fist and knocked resolutely before he could chicken out again.

Moments later he heard footsteps on the other side of the door and braced himself to face Daisy. Imagine his surprise when the door opened instead to reveal Minnie Mouse.

"Oh, hello Donald," she said. She looked surprised.

"Uh, hey Minnie," he cleared his throat, "Is Daisy here?"

As Minnie was about to answer him, a third voice called out from inside the house. "Donald?"

The duck in question tensed a bit as he heard Daisy's voice, but she didn't sound mad. Not happy, mind you, and definitely flustered, but not mad. She appeared a second later beside her friend, flashing a smile. Minnie wisely and wordlessly excused herself back into the house.

For a few moments, the two birds stood in silence. Just as Donald was about to break it, Daisy said in a rush of words; "I'm planning a garage sale and Minnie is just over here helping me sort through a few things and I really have too much stuff anyway, sooo…"

"…Oh. Well, that's…good."

"Mhm."

 _ahem_

"Um, would you like to come inside?"

"I'd love to, thanks."

III

Once in the kitchen, Daisy made for the refrigerator to get Don a glass of lemonade. Minnie was there as well, and gave Donald a small nod and a kind smile by way of second greeting.

Donald found his eyes drawn to the set up on the kitchen island. Various jewelry pieces and little trinkets were strewn about, sorted in some fashion that he didn't understand, and priced accordingly. Past the kitchen area he saw in the living room a coat rack, on which hung a number of dresses and accessories, also priced. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut when he surveyed the items further, and spotted a pattern.

Looking back to the jewels in front of him, he saw the pink pear shaped diamond that Daisy had warn days earlier, when he'd last seen her. Slowly, he picked it up and held it in his hand.

Daisy herself appeared in his line of sight then, holding a glass of pink lemonade and held it out for Don to take. He did so absently.

Minnie spoke then, "Daisy, did you say that there were still some things up in your bedroom that you wanted to sell?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, "There's a pile of scarves on the vanity bench. I've already gone through them, they just need to be priced."

"I'll go handle it. I've finished the coats, anyway." And she left.

After a moment, Daisy tried to pick up conversation again. "Minnie's been a real help through all of this," she said. "I hadn't realized how much stuff I had."

"Why are you doing this?"

Donald's quiet question almost caught her off guard. Daisy turned around to him, and saw that he was still looking at the necklace in his hand. "Well, I just told you."

Don looked up at her then. She couldn't tell if he looked sad or angry. "This is all stuff you've been given by…as gifts."

"Well," Daisy replied a little timidly, "not _all_ of it. I really did have too much junk."

Donald struggled with himself. "I didn't—I don't want…it's just…ugh." He set the necklace back gown on the island and sighed. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Daisy winced a little, and diverted her eyes downward. "…well, you weren't wrong."

Donald looked at her in surprise, frankly startled that she'd agreed so readily to his point. Daisy continued without looking at him.

"I…I'm so sorry, Don," she said. Her voice wavered as she went on, "I should never have…I mean, I can't believe that I did that to you." She could hold back no longer, and covered her face with her hands. Her sobs were quiet, contained, but in the stillness of the room and the evidence of her shaking shoulders, Donald couldn't have missed it if he'd tried. After a moment's pause, he couldn't resist nearing her and pulling her into his arms. Daisy reflexively twisted her hands in the front of his shirt, and accepted the comfort without question.

For a long time, the two just stood there, Donald not knowing what to say and Daisy being unable to say anything herself. Eventually, not sure if he'd regret it later, Donald decided that he had to speak. "Daze, I…I'm not gonna lie, it bothers me. I shouldn't have handled it the way I did, but it still hurts…"

Daisy pulled away enough to look up into his eyes. She looked slightly panic-stricken, like she was waiting for the axe to fall. He continued, though, before she could say anything. "All the stuff though…it really doesn't matter much. I don't want you to think that you have to—"

"I don't want it. I'm done. I don't want any of it anymore." And she buried her face back in his chest. "I love you, Don," she whispered fiercely, "I love you so much."

Donald let out a deep breath and held her close, kissed the crown of her head. "I know you do. I love you, too."


End file.
